Friday, May 23, 2014

I give you lots of them in my EC series KNIGHTS IN BLACK LEATHER series in the little Texas town of
Bravado!

First, we had ROPE ME IN when
one woman found bliss with 3 brothers. Then, TIE ME DOWN where a shibari master learned that the woman he wanted
most, he'd tie down...permanently.

Then we had the prequel to all this in STEAL ME AWAY when a Comanche stole an Anglo woman and kept her as
his loving wife!

Now we have BIND ME CLOSE
with Sheriff Wade Saxon, a man who never lets any woman bind him...and who
doesn't believe in sharing a woman with another man.

Too bad, isn't it, that the one woman he craves wants menage with a man
whom Wade doesn't care for. The men have a past. One wherein Giles Benedict,
the local doctor, got too close for comfort to the only other woman Wade liked.

You'll want this next story in the town where the men are good and
plenty and the women wear only a smile!

All of these three previous are available right now on EC's page as well
as on Amazon and other vendors:

Willow Turner is a big
beautiful woman on a mission to research her famous Bravado ancestors for a
family history she’s writing. But when a robber steals her rental car, she gets
swept away by the big beautiful town sheriff. He’s gruff, he’s tough and surprisingly
appealing. She loves surprises so nothing is more startling—or sexually
exciting—than getting naked and partying privately with Wade Saxon.

Wade's a Dom who never gets involved with
the women he plays with at the local BDSM club. But sassy Willow fascinates him
and he yearns to bind her to him.

The question is can he break his own rules
and give her the three-way and exhibitionism she craves? Because if he can’t,
he won’t keep this independent lady in his bed for a few nights…let alone
forever.

A nibble of my new cherry?

The scene: Sheriff Wade Saxon of Bravado County has
just picked up Willow Turner whose car was stolen outside town by a jewel
thief. As Wade chases the culprit, Willow and he get to know each other very
well.

Hint: Willow has come to town to research the Turner-MacRae family
history. She is a descendant of Fancy Turner and Bull Elk, Chief of the
Comanche tribe in my prequel to the contemporaries STEAL ME AWAY.

Copyright 2014, Cerise DeLand. All rights
reserved.

Streaking past them going in the opposite
direction was a white flash. Willow gasped. Certainly that was her car.

Saxon did a hand-over-hand circle of the
steering wheel.

Willow grabbed at the dashboard and caught
no traction. Jesus.

They fishtailed, then off they zoomed.
Right on the tail of her hijacked Honda. Then, as if the thief had put wings on
her car, it sped ahead and disappeared over a hill.

The crash they heard was mind-jarring.

Saxon rammed on the brakes. “Grab the roof
handle!” he yelled at her as they crested a hill.

As they cleared the rise, Willow spotted
her car to one side.

Tumbling over and sliding, it crumpled
like an old tin can. It teetered on its passenger side, slammed into a tree,
the roof crushed. Smoke rose from the wreckage.

Willow clamped her hands over her mouth.
“Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.”

Saxon screeched his truck to a stop,
tail-spinning in the rocky soil. He put a hand to hers and crushed it tight.
“Stay here!”

As he ran toward the Honda, he yelled into
his dispatch radio and Willow could imagine what he said.Come.
Get an ambulance. Where’s Harris?

Willow just sat where she was and shook.
The adrenalin rushing through her was the wildest blast she’d experienced in
years.

By his dashboard clock, Willow knew she
waited for the wreck to clear for over three hours. Rapt, she just watched
Saxon and his team of emergency responders as they tried to ply the driver from
the front seat of her car with the ugly jaws of life. Firemen came, too, in two
different trucks to put out a blaze that began in the engine. Willow watched
there, knowing her suitcase and her laptop were either burnt or water-logged.
She counted her blessings. She really did, happy the thief had stolen only her
car and hadn’t tried to take it with her in it. But she was at a loss what to
do without transportation, clothing or her security blanket, also known as her
laptop.

Shit. Damn. Hell!

Drained like an old dish cloth after so
many wild minutes of the chase, she soon stopped cursing in self-pity. She
watched Sheriff Saxon talk on his cell to god knew who. Finally, he returned to
his truck and climbed in beside her. Tossing his Stetson to the rear seat, he
smoothed his unruly hair, then reached for her hands and held tight.

“I know this is quite a blow to you.”

“Yeah. A big one.”

“Sorry it took so long.”

“No, no. I’m grateful he got some help. He
looked alive when they put him in the ambulance. Is he?”

“At the moment. But he’s a mess.”

I am
too. Tears scalded her eyes.

“Hey,” he said so softly that she was
shocked a man with so much timbre in his voice could speak so low. “Cry if you
have to, but please don’t worry.”

“Worry?” she blurted, sad and appalled and
angry. She felt like a serrated knife was sawing at her insides. “I’m…just
so…stunned! I’ve got no car and no clothes and— Oh, hell. I never blubber.”

But she did. Her eyes shed crocodile
tears. Her nose ran. Her lips quivered.

And he slid over to her and wrapped her so
close in those big bulging biceps that she wilted like a picked flower in the
mid-day sun.

He dug a handkerchief from his pocket and
put it to her nose. “Blow.”

She honked right into it and sniveled her
thanks. Male comfort was such a rare benefit for any of her troubles, that she
wound her arms around his torso and loved the feel of his rock hard abs. She
wondered how to stay here in his arms. Keep crying? Jump his bones? Worry about
a Mrs. Sheriff Saxon?

Hell, how could she think of such things
after she had just lost everything?

She groaned.

He cuddled her closer and ran his hands
over her hair. “It’s been a long day.”

“Crazy,” she agreed, roping in her wild
emotions and pushing away to reclaim her dignity.

“Look at me.” He caught her chin between
two fingers and made her glance up at him. And god, he was the most fabulous
male creature she had seen since she’d watched Bradley Cooper get a hangover in
Bangkok. But this man was not on a silver screen. He breathed. He grinned. He
filled her view. Broad shoulders, sun-bleached hair, sea green eyes that
caressed and consoled. “I’m gonna fix you up, best I can. I just talked with
Cara MacRae and Samantha Turner. Told them what happened to you.”

“Oh. That’s so good of you. Thank you.
They were expecting me tonight.”

“And they still are.”

“Oh, I can’t. I don’t have any—“

“Yes, you can go.”

“How? I have nothing! No clothes even.
Look at me, Sheriff.”

His gaze flicked over her, but it was no
cursory exam. It was long, lingering and appreciative. Her breasts beaded. Her
pussy pulsed. Her panties got wet. And every nerve in her body sang a halleluya
chorus. When he caught her gaze, he said, “My name is Wade and you are going
tonight.”

Why?
Will you be there? How can I care if you are? What the hell is wrong with my
logic meter? She
ran a hand over her hair. “Sorry. Stolen cars and high speed chases and fires
are not part of my usual day.” “Believe me. I can’t go.”

“You will. Cara and Samantha are seeing to
it you have clothes. Cara owns a women’s shop in town and—”

“I’m hard to fit.”

“Not from where I sit.” His extraordinary
colored eyes danced over her once more.

If he didn’t stop that, she’d leave a wet
spot on his fine leather seat from her soaked panties. Jazzed by his sexy looks
and his sweetness, she had to be logical. “I am not your average—“

Thursday, May 15, 2014

CIA field agent
Paige Aster hides a cunning intelligence and lethal skill behind a mask of
golden beauty. It serves her well as she moves from one undercover assignment
to the next.

Current Mission

Retrieve a
stolen United States military defense program from a terrorist cell in Dublin,
Ireland, before they trade it to Islamic extremists in exchange for munitions.
Her only back up on this time-sensitive mission is a deeply embedded MI-6
operative.

Her Asset

Eoin
Fitzpatrick has sacrificed everyone he holds dear to bring these terrorists to
justice. He’ll sacrifice Diana, too, if she threatens to compromise his mission
or his cover. He has orders to do just that – his agency is only doing hers a
favor.

Compromised or Comprising?

Paige expects
danger, but welcomes passion—taking her pleasure where and when it’s offered.
She’s not prepared for the effect Eoin has on her. Or what happens when she
surrenders to him—Paige burns for Eoin but will he leave her burned…

There's a great plot line, an interesting twist
to the story, and I think although it's not a cliffhanger you'll be left
wanting more…Kinky Book Klub

About the Author:

A
city girl, born and bred, I place my stories in and around southeast
Pennsylvania, or at least have a character or two from the area. Home is where
the heart is and I make mine with my very own knight in slightly tarnished
armor. When I’m not busy living my own happily ever after, I’m writing about
someone else’s.

Contact Details:

beckyfladeauthor@gmail.com

http://beckyfladeauthor.wordpress.com/

https://www.facebook.com/BeckyFlade

https://twitter.com/beckyflade

Enjoy
the following excerpt fromGoddess of the Hunt:

“Is it done? Do you and the others in
the house bring in sex partners from time to time?” She straightened and stared
at him.

“Yes.” He hissed the answer.

“I’m travelling; you and I meet at a
pub and go to your place to hook up. It’s simple and happens all the time.
Believable, even.” She thought of Michel and her lips tilted at the corners.
Then, casting her eyes over Eoin, she deliberately arched a brow and tucked her
tongue in her cheek. “Well, for most people, anyway.”

His lips thinned and the muscles in
his cheek ticked as he worked to control the flare of temper. It delighted her.
“Fine, we’ll do it your way.” Eoin pushed himself from the chair he’d been
perched on and nearly charged for the door. “I’ll be here at seven-thirty
tomorrow morning, be ready.”

Paige grabbed his arm as he passed
her. “What are you so worked up about? If it goes wrong, you can just leave me
hanging and you know it. This costs you nothing, Paddy-boy; it’s my ass on the
line.”

He grabbed her shirt and pushed her
against the closet door. She didn’t fight it and he had his mouth on her in
seconds. His tongue delved and demanded she respond; she arched up into the
kiss. Delight, desire, and anger thrummed through her as she both succumbed and
made demands of her own. His hands molded to her hips and pinned her between
the hard planes of his body and the wall behind her. Then he abruptly pulled
away. They stood inches apart; the air crackled around them. Their gazes
locked. He opened his mouth, then shook his head and left without a word.

Friday, May 9, 2014

First I have to admit that I simply adore Sabrina York's writing and have loved all the books in the Tryst Island series so far. So I was excited to get a chance to review the 6th in the series. This one follows Kaitlin "the Psychic" but there is so much more to it then that. She is so in tuned with the feeling of others that she can read them. And then there is Parker who is scarred in so many ways he has cut out the world. A healer and one who needs healing could there be a more perfect team.

This like the other books I have read by Sabrina York is wonderfully written and the words just seem to flow off the page. This is not an easy book to read. When scars so very deep the pain is deeper. Sabrina makes the reader feel their pain, some part I found it hard to breath for Parker. If you are looking for a book that is an emotional ride, I highly suggest picking this one up. But I do suggest reading the others in the series first there are a great many characters inter woven into this book and for a reader reading this one first I think they might get a bit lost.

To be honest its no chore to read more of her work, I consider it a treat. I think I will have to let this one sink in for a day or two to decide it it's my favorite or 2nd favorite after Rebound.

BLURB

Scarred by a long-ago crime of passion, Parker Rieth
has dedicated himself to a cold, emotionless existence as a divorce lawyer. He
is utterly unprepared for the effect Kaitlin Stringer has on his heart, mind
and soul. Beautiful, ethereal and irresistible, she touches him in a way no
other woman has. Though he has vowed to avoid her, he is drawn toward her.

Psychic healer Kaitlin is just what Parker needs to
reconcile his past, to finally set old ghosts to rest, and to claim his
destiny. Can he find the courage to step into Kaitlin’s embrace? Does she have
what it takes to awaken his sleeping passion?

If you’re new to the
series, check out the Tryst Island Trailer:

About Sabrina
York

Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York is the award winning author of over 20 hot,
humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet &
sexy erotic romance to scorching BDSM. Visit her webpage at to check out her
books, excerpts and contests.
Be sure to grab her FREE Teaser Book:
http://sabrinayork.com/home-2/sabrina-yorks-teaser-book/
And don’t forget to enter to win the royal tiara!

TRYST ISLAND SERIES FROM SABRINA YORK

Fall in Love on
Tryst Island

Each book in the series is a stand-alone story.

When a group of friends share a vacation house, wild
hijinks, unexpected hook-ups and steamy sex ensue. And true love. Did I mention
they all find true love?

Magic didn’t
just find Luke Caulfield. It chased him down, bludgeoned him, and has been
dogging him ever since. Some lessons are harder than others. Luke survives by
embracing danger and upping the ante to give it one better. An enforcer for the
Coven, a large, established group of witches, his latest assignment is playing
bodyguard to the daughter of Coven leaders.

Abigail Ruskin
is chaperoning a spoiled twelve-year-old from New York to her parents’ home in
Utah Territory when Luke gets on their stagecoach in Colorado. A powerful witch
herself, Abigail senses Luke’s magic, but he’s so overwhelmingly male, she
shies away from contact. Stuck between the petulant child and Luke’s raw sexual
energy, Abigail can’t wait for the trip to end.

Wraiths,
wolves, and humans with dark magick attack. Unpleasant truths surface about the
child and Abigail’s well-ordered world crashes around her. Luke’s so attracted
to Abigail, she’s almost all he can think about, but he’s leery too. In over his
head, he summons enforcer backup. Will they help him save the woman he’s
falling in love with, or demand her immediate execution?

Excerpt:

…It wasn’t Luke but a
long, drawn-out shriek that brought Abigail thumping back to consciousness, her
heart hammering triple time in her chest. Eyes wide and staring against the
darkness, she warded herself just in time. Strong magic battered her. She tried
to sense Luke, but that was the problem with wards. They protected by forming
an impenetrable barrier and corralled her magic inside.

Whatever was pummeling
her seemed to have given up. She risked chinking enough of a hole in her
warding to send a tendril of magic outward because she needed information. When
it came, it terrified her so badly, her heart stuttered. Dark things surrounded
them: wraiths, mad wolves—those who’d been turned to serve the other side—and humans
who’d sold their immortal souls for forbidden knowledge. Had the girl rallied
them? How could she possibly be that powerful? Luke didn’t seem to be anywhere.
Abigail hoped he’d concealed himself out of harm’s way, because the two of them
couldn’t make the slightest dent in the dark horde outside. The stagecoach rocked
and she realized someone was climbing onto the roof. Throat so dry she could
barely breathe, she mended her warding.

The books. That’s what they want… Let them haul the miserable things
out of here. She knew she should risk heaven and hell to keep such
knowledge out of dark hands, but Abigail didn’t see how throwing her life away
would alter the outcome. She heard voices speaking the Satanic tongue, and then
dragging sounds as someone transferred the trunk to the ground. Luke shouldn’t have bothered to put it back up top, she thought grimly.

What had the Girauds been
doing with such arcane tomes in the first place? She supposed there was the
slightest chance they’d been protecting them from falling into the wrong hands.
Yes, by all means, let’s give Coven
members the benefit of the doubt. Except it was a struggle, and she didn’t
know who the hell to trust anymore.

She waited until it was
absolutely still outside, and a tentative scan told her the dark host she’d
sensed earlier had moved on, before loosing her wards. The minute she did, she
felt Luke’s energy. He pulled open one of the coach doors. “I scared up a
couple of horses from a nearby farm. We need to go after those books—and the
girl.”

She fought down the
protest that rose to her lips, but it slid out anyway. “There aren’t enough of
us.”

“Fixed that problem too.”
He smiled grimly. “I can ward you if you want to stay here, but if you’re
coming we need to get moving. Don’t want to let the trail get too cold.” From
the smirk in his voice, she knew he was being sarcastic.

She sent her magic
spiraling outward and felt the books pulsing with evil. No way that path would ever get cold. “Why
couldn’t I feel them this strongly before? I know the trunk had to have been
spelled, but still…”

“The trunk was spelled,
and by someone with magic to burn. It’s over in those trees. I guess Carolyn’s minions
were in a hurry and didn’t have a wagon.”

Abigail felt like a rube.
The book trunk had already been packed and sealed when she’d picked Carolyn up
in New York. She’d never even thought to examine it. “Did you see Carolyn?”

“Yup.” His upper lip curled
into a sneer. “Caught a glimpse of her riding a mad wolf.”

“Do you suppose there’s
some way we could separate her from Goody Osborne?” Abigail bit her lip
nervously.

Luke shook his head.
“Even if we could—and I don’t think it’s possible—there are too many unknowns.
Her parents might have been turned. If that happened, the kid could have
embraced evil before it entered her body. By the time we sorted all that out,
the dark would have had one too many chances to kill us.”

Abigail winced at the
unvarnished truth in his words. Any residual doubts she held about the
necessity of destroying the girl melted away. “Yes,” she said through clenched
teeth. “I’m coming with you.”

Luke boosted her onto one
of the horses. She pulled her skirts out of the way. It was a normal saddle and
this was scarcely a time for modesty. Luke vaulted onto his horse, kneeing it,
and they took off up the Overland Stage Road at close to a full gallop. “We’re making too much noise,” she sent.

“Doesn’t matter. They’ll expect us to come after them.”

She clung to the horse
with her legs, enjoying the feel of not having to ride sidesaddle. Luke’s horse
was larger, faster, and soon pulled so far ahead she could barely see him. She
kneed her horse, urging it to greater speed, but the animal shied, and then
reared. Abigail struggled for balance and called magic to calm the spooked
animal. Something sprang at her and knocked her to the ground. She sent killing
magic to stop its heart, before realizing what it was. Panting, she crawled out
from under a black and gray mad wolf with blood dribbling from its nostrils,
and glanced warily about. Were there more of them?

Carolyn stepped from the
shadows. It looked as if she was alone, but Abigail suspected otherwise. “What
do you want?”

“Simple enough. I plan to
use you to get rid of Breana Giraud—and others.” A sneer twisted the girl’s
features into something unpleasant. “You think people don’t know you’re part of
Coven government?”

Abigail set her mouth in
a hard line. “Fine. So the other side knows about me. Question is, who are you
really?”

“Don’t you recognize me?”
Carolyn stepped closer and turned her face from side to side as if posing for a
photographer. “I gave you my name, but I am far more than that.”

She’s arrogant. Perhaps I can use that in some way. Abigail spread
her hands in a placating gesture. “Because I’m used to seeing you as Carolyn
Giraud, I’m not certain who you are.” She paused for emphasis. “I’d like you to
tell me.”

“Certainly.” A feral grin
made the child look like something out of a nightmare. “It is always better to
know who your adversary is.” Her voice became soft and silky. “I have access to
magic you would kill for. You may not know it, but you’d like to work for us.”
She laughed, but it sounded more like broken glass shattering against itself,
than a twelve-year-old girl’s mirth. “We have real power, not that paltry tripe
the Coven settles for.”

“Ha! They said you
couldn’t be turned, but I told them they were wrong. I am The Promised,
resurrected out of legend. Goody Osborne was but a start, and this little girl
is merely a convenience.” Something like an outraged squawk followed the words,
but Goody silenced Carolyn almost immediately. “What I really want is you,
Abigail Ruskin.”

Shit! She couldn’t be The Promised… “You mean the Dark Messiah?”
Abigail scrunched up her face and held her breath, hoping against hope she’d
gotten it wrong.

“The same.” A
supercilious expression etched into the girl’s features. “At least the other
side has heard of me. Warms my black, black heart.”

“The books—?” Abigail
hunted for a connection while she rode herd on terror that threatened to
immobilize her, and clouded her judgment. If ever she needed a clear head, it
was now, but her mind raced feverishly.

“They weren’t doing the
girl’s parents any good moldering away in that underground chamber. I’d
actually been searching for them for years.” She flashed a sly smile. “They
used to be mine…”

Ann Gimpel is a mountaineer at heart. Recently retired from
a long career as a psychologist, she remembers many hours at her desk
where her body may have been stuck inside four walls, but her soul was planning
yet one more trip to the backcountry. Around the turn of the last century (that
would be 2000, not 1900!), she managed to finagle moving to
the Eastern Sierra, a mecca for those in love with the mountains. It was during
long backcountry treks that Ann’s writing evolved. Unlike some who see the
backcountry as an excuse to drag friends and relatives along, Ann prefers
solitude. Stories always ran around in her head on those journeys, sometimes as
a hedge against abject terror when challenging conditions made her fear for her
life, sometimes for company. Eventually, she returned from a trip and sat down
at the computer. Three months later, a five hundred page novel emerged. Oh, it
wasn’t very good, but it was a beginning. And, she learned a lot between
writing that novel and its sequel.

Around that time, a friend of hers suggested she try her
hand at short stories. It didn’t take long before that first story found its
way into print and they’ve been accepted pretty regularly since then. One of
Ann’s passions has always been ecology, so her tales often have a green twist.

In addition to writing, Ann enjoys wilderness photography. She
lugs pounds of camera equipment in her backpack to distant locales every year.
A standing joke is that over ten percent of her pack weight is camera gear which
means someone else has to carry the food! That someone is her husband. They’ve
shared a life together for a very long time. Children, grandchildren and three
wolf hybrids round out their family.